“What?” asked the sub-lieutenant in a fright.
“It’s remarkable, that nowheres, neither in Paris, nor in London—believe me, this was told me by people who had seen the whole wide world—never, nowhere, will you meet with such exquisite ways of making love as in this town. That’s something especial, as us little Jews say. They think up such things that no imagination can picture to itself. It’s enough to drive you crazy!”
“But is that possible?” quietly spoke the sub-lieutenant, whose breath had been cut off.
“Well, strike me God! But permit me, young man, by the way! You understand yourself. I was single, and of course, every man is liable to sin ... It’s different now, of course. I’ve had myself written in with the invalids. But from the former days a remarkable collection has remained to me. Just wait, I’ll show it to you right away. Only, please, be as careful as possible in looking at it.”
Horizon with trepidation looked around to the right and left and extracted from his pocket a long, narrow little box of morocco, in the style of those in which playing cards are usually kept, and extended it to the sub-lieutenant.
“Here you are, have a look. Only, I beg of you, be very careful.”
The sub-lieutenant applied himself to picking out, one after the other, the cards of plain and coloured photography, in which in all possible aspects was depicted in the most beastly ways, in the most impossible positions, the external side of love which at times makes man immeasurably lower and viler than a baboon. Horizon would look over his shoulder, nudge him with his elbow, and whisper:
“Tell me, ain’t that swell, now? Why, this is genuine Parisian and Viennese chic!”
The sub-lieutenant looked through the whole collection from the beginning to the end. When he was giving back the little box, his hand was shaking, his temples and forehead were moist, his eyes had dimmed, and over his cheeks had mantled a blush, mottled like marble.
“But do you know what?” Horizon exclaimed gaily, all of a sudden. “It’s all the same to me—the Indian sign has been put upon me. I, as they used to say in the olden times, have burned my ships ... I have burned all that I used to adore before. For a long time already I’ve been looking for an opportunity to pass these cards on to some one. I ain’t especially chasing after a price. You wish to acquire them, mister officer?”